Reunion
by Jenna C
Summary: Post Seeing Red. Spike returns Buffy's disguised. Confusion ensues. Spuffy at heart.


This is an alternative start to season seven I guess, only this is Spike sans-soul. So here's the set up.

Dawn's been kidnapped, must be Tuesday, Buffy infiltrated Vamp gang to rescue her. Willow is recuperating in England with Xander but sends a little magical assistance in the form of a vampire glamour. As we join Buffy has killed the baddies and just found her sister, unconscious with a bite mark.

Buffy bent over her sister. The cuts to her neck didn't seem deep, the bleeding had already stopped but still she checked Dawn's pulse to reassure herself, felt the bump on her forehead.

Then a sudden tingling of her spider senses and a rush of displaced air and Buffy ducked just in time to avoid a murderous axe swing. She vaulted to her feet, astride Dawn, automatically falling into battle stance, then caught her breath to find herself facing Spike.

The gears in her brain ground to an abrupt halt, taking her body right along with them, seeing him made her forget completely why she'd jumped up in the first place and she just stared with unmitigated surprise.

Spike was back. Holding an axe that had nearly taken her head off. She glanced down at her sister and the neat puncture wounds on her neck then back up at Spike, who hefted the axe, face set and grim.

Buffy felt a rising sense of panic but her conscious mind wouldn't compute the pieces.

"You couldn't..."

The world seemed to have frozen. Buffy had spent much of the summer consciously not thinking about Spike, absolutely not wondering when he'd suddenly pop up and definitely not rehearsing what she might say to him when he did. If she had, she would have assumed without doubt Spike would never make more than a token attempt to kill her, but she could feel that slice of the axe still prickling the hairs on the back of her neck.

There was no emotion in his face or voice, his expression was closed. Strange for a creature whose every thought was usually writ large in his eyes. Buffy needed to take a minute, or maybe a lifetime, to figure him out but then Spike had never given her time to think.

"Funny enough, I think I can."

"You couldn't..."

Spike wanted to scream. That familiar voice, puzzled and maybe afraid but sounding no different through a mouthful of glistening fangs. He wanted to throw himself at her feet and beg forgiveness for allowing her face to be so deformed but he knew there was no Buffy left to grant absolution.

No Buffy left. While Spike had been mourning his personal loss another vampire had slipped in and taken her away from the world, left this thing behind to destroy everything she had held dear and he felt sick. But he could hear Dawn's slow heartbeat and God, didn't he owe Buffy this one last thing?

"Funny enough, I think I can."

Spike rushed her and Buffy swerved, sent them both tumbling away from Dawn. A detached part of Spike's brain wondered if the slayer strength and vampire strength would combine to make something unstoppable, or if the qualities that made Buffy unbeatable would have disappeared with her soul.

"Knew you'd show up, sooner or later. Didn't figure on the axe." Buffy spoke slowly, as if he was a puzzle she had all the time in the world to work out, but her voice was a red rag to Spike, who picked himself up and threw the axe at her. Buffy caught it deftly and tossed it back to him, handle first. "Cocky, aren't we?"

She shrugged. "I can take you," she said dismissively. Then she looked at him and frowned, that way of looking as if she was trying to figure out how he could possibly exist, the expression painfully familiar to Spike despite the feral eyes. "You aren't really trying to kill me, are you?"

And despite himself Spike wanted to say no, though he knew it wasn't Buffy asking the question he wanted one last chance to swear his loyalty. But he knew to win he had to stay cool, and Buffy would want him to win. "Good Lord, no. I was trying to take your head off in a friendly way."

There was no humour in the banter and when he lunged again the attack was deadly serious. Buffy blocked again, all her moves defensive, giving him nothing to really take her measure.

"And Dawn?" she nodded at the unconscious teen.

"She's mine," he hissed between gritted teeth. "Made a promise once to look after her always, intend to keep it."

She gave him a look that would have been unreadable even without the vampiric brow altering the shape of her face. A stake had appeared in her hand but she held her distance as she stared at him.

"You wouldn't." Buffy said insistently. "I know you, you wouldn't."

Obscurely her confidence made Spike feel worse. Not for what he was about to do, no guilt there, but that she could have thought so badly of him when she died. He snorted derisively. "Can see why you might think that. Good. Make it easier to rip your head off."

He suited actions to the words, cause he didn't have a lot of cool to keep at the best of times and that voice was mocking him; for the first time Buffy parried with her own attack.

"That's more like it!" Spike roared as they exchanged lightening quick blows. Fights were something he could lose himself in. Fights were something he could win.

And he had to stop that voice cause he wanted so badly to listen, to be seduced into believing his girl wasn't gone.

The slayer part of Buffy was responding instinctively to the vampire threat and at the third attack she started fighting back, almost against her will. She could feel the change in him too, the animal delight in violence as he threw punches with wild abandon and something almost like hope died as he hollered his war cry.

"No!" she shouted, sounding even to her own ears more afraid than angry. "You said you'd never hurt me!" But there was Dawn lying on the floor and something wasn't right there but he wasn't letting her think long enough to put her finger on it. Not dead, she repeated like a mantra in her head. Nothing broken yet that can't be fixed, if she could just delay long enough to put the pieces together then she wouldn't have to kill him.

A well placed kick sent the axe spinning out of his hand and into the wall with a clatter, the slayer in her taking over the fight on autopilot even as Buffy struggled with denial. "I fucking believed you. You must have..." She punched, he caught her arm but she followed through with her shoulder and smashed him against the wall. "Even after... I believed you meant it."

Buffy mentally winced at the note of appeal in her voice but the words came out of their own volition and this was Spike. Surely he wouldn't make her stake him if he realised she didn't want to. And she really didn't want to. His mere appearance these days was enough to throw her off guard and her thoughts in disarray and it would be easier by far if he was a pile of dust but she didn't want to be his executioner. Didn't want him dead at all, if Buffy was being honest with herself, kinda liked the idea that love could be enough to change a person, that someone could love her so much they could _become_ a person.

"I trusted you."

If anything he seemed to grow more furious, wrenching himself free and taking her arm with him, snapping the bone with a sickening crack. "You stupid bint. D'you think I don't know how this works?" He popped her in the nose while she was still reeling from the pain and spun her into him, pulling them both down to the floor. His arm was crushing her windpipe and blood pounded into her ears, muffling the sound of his next words.

"You are not her. And I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone she loved."

And even as her vision clouded over a light came on for Buffy. She would have laughed but there was no air for it, and for the first time since she was brought back to life Buffy was truly afraid of dying. Damn Willow with her spell so good it could fool another vampire and now he was going to choke the life right out of her because he couldn't hear her frantic gasping for air and she'd forgotten. At least I was right about him, she thought idly as her mind started to float, and Buffy tried to picture how he'd react when she didn't dust but all the motivation in the world couldn't help her without air.

Spike rolled them both over, his full weight crushing her as he reached toward where the stake had fallen, but his arm loosened enough for her to drag in a breath and choke out. "Stop... please Spike... Don't."

He froze, and if she hadn't been so desperate for air Buffy might have felt guilty, imagining what he was thinking right then. Instead she used his distraction to jab her good elbow into his side and throw him off. She scrambled to her feet and he followed, picking up the stake.

"You sound like her," he admitted ruefully. "Calculating little wench."

"You deserved that one on so many levels." Buffy dusted herself down, wincing a little as the movement ground the bones in her arm. But he didn't give her time to recoup.

"Did what I did," he snarled as she blocked his punch. "Won't ever get to say sorry, but I can do this."

Buffy laughed, deflected his second punch easily and stepped back. "Would you cut it out? I'm not fighting you, you don't want to kill me. I won't be eating anyone."

Her arm was killing her but the world was back on it's axis and she felt a huge relief. Spike was still... well, Spike, and while Buffy wasn't quite sure how she felt about that it was better than the alternative. She tried to remember she was still angry with him, but now she had time to look his pain was obvious and raw and she could summon only pity. She cocked her head on one side and regarded him thoughtfully. "It's funny, you'd think you'd like the vampire me."

"Pro'ly what she would have expected," he said bitterly, "But she deserved better."

"I'm trying to tell you, she's me."

"You know how much I want to believe that." He nodded matter of factly. "That's why I have to dust you. That and biting the Niblet, can't let that one go."

This time when he lunged Buffy feinted right, snatched the stake out of his hand and used his momentum to throw him into the wall, then used her good hand to pin his arms as the other positioned the stake. Spike made one fruitless bid for freedom then sagged against the wall, eyes closed.

"I didn't bite her."

He didn't respond.

"Don't make me kill you. Truce, okay?"

Spike's lips were moving in a constant wordless litany that might have been a prayer but he didn't answer her. He didn't really look like Spike with his eyes closed, she thought irrelevantly, and she felt an absurd need to make him open his eyes so she could check he really was. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I failed her," answered Spike without hesitation.

"Failed who, exactly?"

"Buffy. I fucked off and let her be killed and now I can't even stop you killing her little sister. 'Les you waste enough time gloating."

He suddenly opened his eyes and twisted, smashing his elbow into her broken arm and deftly reversing their positions. Buffy winced but didn't counter, looking back at him calmly.

"You're not wondering why I have a heartbeat, then?"

"You don't have a heartbeat." He looked like Spike then, blue eyes seething with anger and hatred and pain but desperate to believe. He should be hurting, thought Buffy firmly, and she couldn't listen to the part of her brain telling her to give him a big hug because he was holding her against the wall. And a few seconds away from ripping her head off, which wouldn't be pleasant.

"You kill me and you're gonna be holding a big bloody corpse and you're gonna feel a lot worse about that than I will."

"Buffy?"

Compassion fought the urge to eye roll and lost. "That's what I'm trying to tell you." Dozens of the cutting putdowns she'd rehearsed over the summer couldn't have the impact of saying nothing just then but the tortured confusion on his face was more than Buffy could stand and she wanted to put him out of this misery, at least.

"Not something I ever thought I'd say, but feel me."

Using his body to pin her against the wall, fingers tightly round her wrists, Spike laid his other hand on her chest. When he looked up at her Buffy entirely forgot how much she'd tried to hate him, the wonder and hope in his eyes matching his voice as he whispered; "You're not dead?"

"Not even a little bit, this time," she said reassuringly. "Slightly damaged, maybe."

But he wasn't listening, or didn't take the hint, unconsciously tightening his grip on her broken arm as his other hand reached up and tentatively touched her brow. Then he was laughing with relief as his fingers slipped through the clever mirage, feeling her skin beneath.

"It's really you? Buffy..."

He said her name with such reverence that the aforementioned felt a most inappropriate shiver.

"Willow did a spell. It's a very long story. That's why you can't hear my heartbeat." Which is probably a good thing right now, she tacked on mentally. Cause Spike holding her down should be causing a whole different kind of heart racing.

"You're not dead!" He was grinning like a maniac, let go her wrists to explore her face with his fingertips, pressing himself against her. "Why the hell didn't you tell me that straight off?"

"I forgot, okay," she answered a little crossly, as he traced the outline of her lips through the image of vampire teeth. The adrenalin from the fight was wearing off and she was starting to feel uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny. "And any time you want to stop touching me..."

"Right. Sorry." But he lingered for a second, his hands cupping her face, before stepping back so suddenly Buffy slid down the wall and nearly lost her balance.

"I'm sorry, I thought... Jesus Buffy, you're not dead! Shit, I broke your arm."

Spike glared at the offending limb and Buffy watched his expression change with interest. Everything Spike felt was written clear on his face; it made for an entertaining sight as he fluctuated between abject horror and a cheshire cat grin, she couldn't help but smile in return.

"You forgot?" he asked suddenly. "You thought..." He trailed off, looking up at her with helpless blue eyes.

So unfair, thought Buffy sourly. She'd been glad to have a reason to hate him over the summer, a useful emotion to bury the hurt and betrayal, and wipe out the memory of all the times he'd looked at her like that. As if he could hardly hope she was real.

"Don't you cry!" she exclaimed hastily. "Damnit, Spike, don't you dare."

Another brief internal struggle played out in living colour and Spike managed to settle his expression into neutral, though his eyes were suspiciously wet.

"I am so sorry love."

Buffy looked down at her arm ruefully. "I suppose it's kind of sweet really. Only the next time you go honouring my memory you wanna make sure I'm dead first?"

"Wasn't talking 'bout that-"

"I know," Buffy cut in quietly. After cursing him for being so damn likable Buffy did a one eighty and decided she didn't want to think about the side of Spike that was harder to label. Just a moment, to be glad they were both alive and forget how complicated that was, postpone the inevitable angst. A broken arm was easy to forgive, all the rest would take a little more thinking about so she looked down at her shoes and shrugged her good shoulder. "Don't do it again."

"No." Spike shuffled his feet, obviously wanting to say more but looking uncertain. "Why didn't you stake me?"

"Ouch." Buffy fiddled with her buttons, then gathered herself and looked at him squarely. "So not ready to have that conversation. Also, I need you to carry Dawn. I seem to be a little impaired in the lifting department."

He seemed relieved to have something to do, Buffy watched as he scooped Dawn up and looked at her expectantly. She could see how he was struggling to be all business, radiating nervous energy and completely unable to hide a sappy smile that always left Buffy torn between punching him and kissing him.

"Cut that out," she snapped instead. "You're grinning like an idiot."

The smile disappeared but only for a moment. "I am an idiot," said Spike happily. "And I'm so very glad you're not dead."

'Glad you don't want me dead,' she wanted to reply but firmly stifled the words. It didn't seem fair, that he could be glad when she couldn't allow herself to be pleased to see him. And it wasn't fair that his eyes shone with love and his smile threatened to infect her face despite her fight to stay distant.

"You tried to rape me," Buffy said slowly, and he stopped smiling then but she had to remind herself, of why she couldn't be glad he wasn't dead either. Because he was already worming his way back into her affections with all that annoying sincerity and only badness could result.

Besides, this was more important than her feelings and it would be wrong to just forget.

"You're not an idiot, I don't have words for what you are. Don't have the words for any of this, it's completely impossible for you to exist and I'm too tired to get my head round that and yell at you like I should. There's nothing to be happy about."

"You're not dead," Spike repeated softly. And again with the bone melting blue eyes, more than capable of showing remorse and joy. "I'm not tryin' to make light of the rest, know you've every right to hate me. I'd do anything-"

"Don't. I know you're sorry, and I've already killed too many friends. But don't think cause I haven't staked you that we're okay."

Spike nodded silently. Perversely Buffy was still dissatisfied.

"Thanks for trying to kill me."

"Anytime, love." Spike cringed at his own words. "I mean never again. Slayer. I mean..."

"I get it, Spike." Buffy's voice was dry but she couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the side of her mouth. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

Spike was in a daze. He heard what she was saying and knew he had no right to be happy but after the agony of thinking her dead his brain couldn't get past 'Buffy's alive'.

It was killing him to keep quiet when he wanted to sing but her wish was ever his command and he contented himself with grinning when she wasn't looking. Her arm hung uselessly at her side as she stalked down the rocky corridor and Spike tried to feel bad about it but it seemed so insignificant next to his other offences. And she hadn't seemed to mind that much, she'd said it was sweet. My god, Buffy called me sweet. This thought jockeyed briefly for position against 'Buffy's not dead' before his brain decided it could now deal with two thoughts simultaneously.

Buffy'd looked hurt when he'd tried to kill her.

Buffy hadn't staked him, even though he'd tried to kill her

Buffy said he was sweet (almost)

Buffy said she knew him

He could see the fight from a different perspective now, and wondered at it. Could make sense of the bewildered hurt a vampire shouldn't be able to feel and the sudden change to laughing relief when she'd remembered the spell. 'Ever after... I believed you meant it' and _that_ in her voice that had made him wince at the time, and made him wince now to remember how he'd repaid her belief with a broken arm.

And strangled her. And tried to stake her. Oops.

And then with the groping. He'd been too distraught to appreciate copping a feel at the time but now he could remember how she'd rolled her eyes and told him to feel her. The slayer could have staked him in that first flurry of punches if she'd wanted to, even one handed Buffy could have held him down and beaten sense into him, instead she'd stood still as he seriously invaded her personal space and ascertained with his own senses that she was warm and real and alive.

Slayer'd said herself, he had no reason to be happy. She'd survived without him like he should have known she would, now had more reason to hate him than ever. Had every reason to stake him yet here he was, molecular structure firmly intact carrying baby sis no less.

Buffy hadn't staked him, Buffy was alive to stake him, and she didn't think he had good reason to be happy?

'Don't make me kill you'

Spike would treasure that one, though he knew he had no right, knew she should have staked him. Instead she'd promised him a severe talking to and smiled with affectionate tolerance as he'd stammered his apologies and confusion. Rational Spike knew nothing changed what he'd _done_, but he couldn't have hurt her so badly if she could laugh at his bemused pleasure. Laugh and _sympathize_.

Buffy had stalked off in a hurry cause she was trying not to laugh.

Buffy didn't want him dead

Buffy had implied he was a friend, she'd _thanked_ him

Buffy didn't hate him. This thought startled Spike so much he forgot to keep walking. The subject of his thoughts turned, "You hear something?" she asked sharply.

Spike shook his head, tried hard to look serious under her scrutiny but the stupid smile just wouldn't budge.

"You don't hate me," he blurted out, immediately wishing he could keep his mouth shut but Buffy just rolled her eyes and went back to walking. When she spoke she sounded annoyed but there was amusement in her voice as well.

"It would be easier to hate you," she said, stepping up the pace "If you would stop looking at me like I'm the second coming."

"Sorry love."

"Don't call me that."

"No Slayer."

"Don't call me that either."

"I'll just shut up then, shall I?"

"That would be good."

Word for the story, wince.


End file.
